


Sunday Boy

by wildglitterwolf



Series: Sunday Boy [1]
Category: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Canon, Self-Blame, Trying to reunite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22021945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildglitterwolf/pseuds/wildglitterwolf
Summary: Rick has lost touch with Cliff since they parted ways after the hippies attacked. When the movies they made in Italy start premiering stateside, Rick decides to try to reach out to Cliff. That is, if he can even find him.
Relationships: Cliff Booth/Rick Dalton
Series: Sunday Boy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594867
Comments: 26
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to split this story in half just now while posting since this whole idea kinda got hijacked by real life emotions while in the middle of writing. So if you don’t want to deal with character death, you should be fine reading just this chapter as its own story.

It had been three months since Rick last spoke to Cliff. Their parting after Italy was taken seriously even after Cliff’s short stint in the hospital from the hippie attack, and Rick had no idea what Cliff was up to. Hell, he could be dead for all he knew. 

Sure, Francesca was decent enough company. A good fuck, at least. Definitely a lot more expensive to keep than Cliff was, and a lot louder and more opinionated than him as well. But still, nothing that would make him want to do any harm to her and make him a rumor mill. He was learning more Italian and being fed well enough by her, so that was one quality where she had an advantage over Cliff. 

Unfortunately, he did learn quickly that she wasn’t going to tolerate his whining and sniveling ass like Cliff did. Guess it was time for him to ‘man up’ and be the one taking care of the other partner. His checkbook wasn’t enough on its own; he actually had to put her feelings and wants above his own. Fuck. How did Cliff ever tolerate his ass and never demand anything in return? And should he have done the same and ask what he wanted once in awhile?

Who knows. Too late now. 

Rick still felt too much of a coward to call Cliff. Maybe he was scared Cliff would hate him and let him finally know once and for all how much resentment he built up towards him all these years. Or, you know, the whole idea that maybe he’s dead. Rick couldn’t shake the thought of Cliff overdosed and lying in a ditch somewhere due to homelessness and being unemployable. Or a broken heart. Either way, it would be Rick’s fault.

_Goddamnit, Rick. Cliff is fine. He’s always fine. That man can survive anything. Survived you, didn’t he?_

Rick took a deep breath as he dumped the premiere invite into the mailbox. His work overseas was finally starting to make its way stateside, and _Kill Me Quick, Ringo, Said The Gringo_ was up first at the end of the year. He honestly had no idea if Cliff would show or if he would receive it, but inviting him this way was the only nerve he could get up at the moment

—

Premiere night finally arrived. Rick tolerated the dog and pony show as best he could without letting his real feelings on the Italians’ way of doing things slip out. After all, they might be the only ones who can save his career right now. Say what the interviewers want to hear. Look how the cameras want you to look with that arm candy wife on your arm. Don’t let them know that your mind couldn’t be further from this damn movie. 

But by the time the lights came up and the standing ovation (probably out of courtesy) finally ended, there was no sign of Cliff to be found no matter how many times Rick scanned each seat. Maybe he was just busy today; it was short notice after all. Or maybe it got lost in the mail. 

_Or maybe he doesn’t give a flying fuck about you anymore._

It’s been awhile since Rick had a late night drunk in the pool, but boy, was he going to pull an all-nighter tonight. 

—

They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Well if that was the case, Rick Dalton was fucking insane. He didn’t learn from last time that maybe he should try getting in direct contact with Cliff and just kept mailing invites as if it would magically get any better. 

_Nebraska Jim_ was up next, the one that started this whole fucking thing. The whole reason they went to Italy. The whole reason Cliff was gone.

Ok. Fine. Not the whole reason. But if they didn’t go to Italy in the first place, he wouldn’t be married right now with someone else draining his bank account without the benefits Rick paid Cliff for. Of course, they wouldn’t have spent those those first few months alone in that apartment. If they didn’t have that time together then maybe feelings never would have come out, changing the dynamic of their relationship. And Rick definitely wouldn’t have panicked and married the first woman in his vicinity. 

But it looked like _Nebraska Jim_ didn’t have any extra sentimental value as once again, Cliff was nowhere to be found. Same for _Red Blood, Red Skin_. Rick even sent an invite for _Hell's Boats_ , something he shot after coming back to America just in case Cliff thought he was only being invited because he was in the production. But again, nothing. 

Finally by the end of 1970, it was time for _Operazione Dyn-O-Mite!_ , the last one he and Cliff will ever share together. It was now or never if he wanted to see Cliff one more time. Since Cliff had been gone and he couldn’t afford a taxi for everything, Rick worked to get his license reinstated, and now he really didn’t have an excuse why he couldn’t visit him. 

That week before the event he bucked up enough courage to haul his ass down to Van Nuys. In hand he brought the invite and an old tux that no longer fit him after Italy made his gut grow. Maybe Cliff never came because he didn’t have one. Of course that’s it. It had to be. 

But when he got to the drive-in he found a vacant spot where Cliff’s trailer used to sit. After a half hour of sleuthing, he found the manager of the property who told him Cliff left over a year ago and never told him where he was going. He showed him the invites Rick sent saying he just held onto them in case he came back but he never did. Rick knew that meant he was never going to track him down, at least definitely not within a week. He thanked the manager and showed his gratitude by leaving him the premiere ticket and tux; he wasn’t going to use them so someone else might as well.

Rick felt a lot more relaxed going into this premiere than the last few. No need to be anxious about what to say to Cliff if he showed. Granted, that also meant this one felt a lot more tedious to get through without the hope for any reward after. But at least during the standing ovation he didn’t need his eyes combing over every row. Just a quick glance over everyone. Don’t seem bored about it. 

And that’s when he saw him. High up in the balcony on the far right side but he knew without a doubt it was him. And when they locked eyes he got a smile in return before watching him slip away like a ghost.

_Shit!_

Rick knew he couldn’t bolt and draw attention to himself. But Cliff could be getting away! He’ll never know what’s become of him, where he is now. How to stay in contact. Everything they should have settled before he sent him away. 

_Ah. Fuck it._

Before Francesca could reply to his ‘little boys’ room’ excuse, he up and disappeared. He searched the lobby, the carpet, the lot, everywhere he could around the theater. But he was gone. Fucking should have left when he first saw him. 

The theater would be emptying any moment now and they would walk out to see the star of the picture crying. Bad enough the fucking employees were witnessing it but he couldn’t have his peers as well. He did as he told Francesca he would be doing and made his way into the bathroom. 

And there he was. 

“Shit, man. You’re crying.”

It’s been well over a year since Rick last saw Cliff, but Cliff looked like almost a decade had passed and he finally caught up to his age. Even the smile he gave now seemed to go only half as wide as it used to. And when Rick ran to embrace him in a tight hug he could feel Cliff had definitely lost that toned body he kept for stunt work. 

“B-b-but how? I went t-to find you a-and they said they didn’t know wh-where you were.”

“Yeah, I told them where I was a few months back once I settled down. Told them if anyone came snooping around looking for me to tell them that they didn’t know where I was, but if it was some asshole named Rick Dalton then give me a ring. So I got up at the crack of dawn, drove down to grab the ticket and tux from them and,well, now we’re here.”

Rick was feeling overwhelmed. But his joy was quickly shifting to anger. “You fuck, I thought you might have been dead! I feared the worst, why did you never try contacting me??”

“Well. Why didn’t you?”

“The fuck I did! S-sent you a goddamn invite every premiere.”

“That’s not the same, man. You didn’t contact me for the same reason I didn’t. All that ‘reached the end of the trail’ bullshit. The whole reason you got married. We both knew we could never be more than just friends or go back to being just friends after Italy. I don’t know about you since you at least got yourself a lady, but I couldn’t live in limbo anymore. So I hooked up the trailer and spent the first couple months driving around San Joaquin Valley before an almond farmer outside of Fresno allowed me to park her on his property. Now I do work for him and whatever odd jobs around town I can find to get by.”

Rick frowns not liking how he said the ‘get by’ part. Yeah, Cliff was barely even getting by when he was paying him but he at least knew Cliff was being kept fed and in good enough health. Now it looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. “So do you, uh. I mean. A-are you seeing someone? Someone to keep tabs on you, at least?”

“Why? Would you be jealous?”

“Wh-what? N-n-no!” The look on Rick’s face said otherwise. 

“Ah, well. If you insist. On Sundays when I’m off for the day I head into town to see this guy I’ve got feelings for. But unfortunately, I think it might be unrequited as it seems like it’s very one sided. He does all the talking, I do all the listening. I guess you could say he reminds me of you a lot.”

“G-g-guess you have a type, huh?” Rick tried not to sound jealous, but his reply came out a little snarkier than ideal. But he guessed he was saved from having Cliff reply when the bathroom door opened and some of the audience started filing in. Of course they all recognized him and tried to engage him, but Cliff went into bodyguard mode and excused Rick for him as he leads him out into the lobby and through the exit out the back of the theater. 

“Guess you’re a big hit in this town again, huh?”

“No. N-not really.” Rick looks back at the door wondering if Francesca was looking for him and how much time he’d have left before he was caught out back with the stray she thought they got rid of over a year ago. “Wh-where you staying? Wanna come over? I-I don’t care if Francesca m-m-minds.”

“Thanks but I gotta head back for work tomorrow. Don’t really have the luxury of time off.” Cliff digs around in his pocket until he finds a scrap of paper and hands it to Rick. “There. That’s where you can find me. Feel free to come up if ever you wanna break from your lady. Could probably do some horseback riding or fishing somewhere. Hell, I still haven’t gone up to Yosemite yet so maybe we could take a day trip there.”

Rick looked the paper over, reading the address and phone number on constant loop as if he had to memorize it before it self-destructs in his hand. “And your, uh. Your Sunday boy w-won’t mind?”

Cliff gives him the widest grin he’s seen all night, almost back to what it used to be. “Man, you are jealous. No. No I’m pretty sure he’d encourage me to, actually.”

“You’ve told him a-about me? About us? H-h-he don’t mind that you’re…”

“No, he doesn’t care that I am. And yes, he knows about you. I’d say you’re his favorite actor, actually.”

“I see.” Rick was starting to believe that Cliff was just making this guy up. He always knew Cliff liked to fluff his ego, and boy, how he use to get off on it. But maybe enough time has passed that it just seems forced now.

“Well. Better get going. Gotta long drive back.” Cliff wants to go in for that embrace like he always gave him. Even when he would be seeing him in just a few hours, he always hugged him like he hasn’t seen him in weeks while keeping it one handed so he didn’t seem too desperate for contact. Instead, he just claps his shoulder and gives him a silent nod, but unable to actually make himself move beyond that as he eyes fall to Rick’s feet. Well. Now it’s long enough to be awkward. 

“Do you regret Italy, Cliff?”

Italy. Yeah, Italy revealed a lot of shit. Like how it hit Cliff in the first month that he relied on Brandy as a deterrent to funnel his affections towards her. Now there was nothing to prevent the far from subtle pinning and frequent innuendos directed towards Rick. But that did lead to what he would call the three best months of ‘married life’ he’s ever had only to have the rest of the trip feel like correcting a mistake. 

“Nah. I’d rather be sent on that suicide mission to kill Hitler than give those memories up. Being out with you made me finally realize how much I was dying inside.”

_Have you even looked at yourself right now? Fucking look like you’re dying right now._

“Cliff… I-“

But the sound of the back door opening and the Italian accent stopped him. Not only that, but Francesca didn’t even recognize Cliff when she asked who this was that he needed a private conversation with. 

“Hey, Francesca. It’s just me, Cliff Booth.” That name definitely changed the expression on her face, like a cockroach she thought she killed came back again. “Just thought I’d stop by since this is our last picture together. I’ll get out of your hair, now. You keep taking care of this prick, ya hear?”

And with that, Cliff gave one last squeeze on Rick’s shoulder and turns to head towards the parking lot. It took every ounce of Rick’s will to not call after him with Francesca there watching him. There was no fairytale, happily ever after bullshit for him if he followed that man. At least, that’s what he has to keep telling himself to stay sane.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These last three months have been rough dealing with the aftermath of losing our mom, but going through this last week of our first Christmas without her plus going to a funeral for a childhood friend’s 1 month old, ooo boy. So this chapter was really a product of dealing with all that grief and hopefully I won’t be in the mindset to write something this depressing for awhile.

It seemed to Rick that when he was seeking work it tended to avoid him. Now that he was looking for a hiatus to go visit Cliff he couldn’t catch a break. Finally around early April he managed to get a hiatus for about two weeks scheduled and this time managed to get direct hold of Cliff. 

“Sounds great but I told ya I can’t afford to take time off. And I don’t think you really wanna be cooped up in the trailer when I’m working.”

“No, no. I-I’ll rent a hotel in town. Unless we go somewhere, that is. And please, let me compensate you for any work you’ll be missing, any at all! I fucking miss us that much.”

“Well. I guess I could use a break. And a change of scenery. Alright, you twisted my arm. I’ll just let everyone in town know I’ll be gone.”

“Even Sunday boy?”

“Why, I’m flattered you remember him. But he’s out of town for awhile so no, you can’t meet him.”

“How fucking convenient…” Rick still honestly couldn’t tell if Cliff was just pulling his chain or not; this guy could be a total figment and he’d still feel jealous. 

“And is dear Francesca alright with this? Didn’t seem too happy to see me last time.”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. Totally f-fine. Yeah…”

Clif could tell that’s a lie, although more likely he hasn’t said anything yet over her saying anything against it. But seeing as that’s Rick’s shit to deal with he lets it slide. “Can’t wait to see you, man. We haven’t had quality time together since Italy.”

“Well we did have some when we got back before the fucking hippies attacked.”

“That’s not exactly the kind of quality time I meant,” Cliff says with a soft laugh. “And yeah, before you ask, Sunday boy would be fine with it.”

—

It didn’t hit Rick until the night before exactly how much he would be driving. He’s never driven this far in his life as he took the train out here from Missouri and all film shooting was either done around town or he was flown to wherever the hell he needed to go. The anxiety that he wouldn’t make it weighed on his mind and he wouldn’t have the booze to relax him. 

But once he got out of the city and through the Grapevine, he was able to calm down and enjoy the ride. Not that there was much to look at but maybe that’s what made it work for him: no distractions. Just the window down, radio blasting, glasses on as if trying to channel his inner Cliff. Now that was an acting challenge in itself. 

By mid-afternoon he reached the address of the farm and drove around until he spotted the trailer under a tree not too far from the main house. Rick takes a sigh of relief that he found it much easier than he thought he would and parks right up by it. As soon as he turns off the engine, he’s out and at the door, knocking away furiously. 

He knows within a minute something was up; surely Cliff would be able to hear him anywhere in that tiny place? Oh wait, his car is gone. Well he hasn’t talked to him since he told him he was coming two weeks ago so of course he wouldn’t know what time he’d be coming. Instead he makes himself at home on the trailer steps, looks around and breathes in the fresh air. Maybe this is where he should retire, whenever that time will come. Hopefully later than sooner. Hopefully wherever Cliff is. 

Rick lifts his head at the sound of the door to the house opening and sees an older man he assumes to be the owner of the property making his way towards him. “Howdy. I’m Rick Dalton, friend of Cliff’s. I don’t know if he told you but I’m supposed to be visiting him this week up from Los Angeles. Did he happen to say where he was off to by any chance?”

“So you’re not his friend from town he visits most Sunday afternoons?”

_Jesus Christ. So this guy is real._

“N-no, sir. I’m Rick Dalton, the actor. You know, _Bounty Law_?” He could see it clearly wasn’t ringing a bell with this guy. “Well Cliff was my stunt double. I reconnected with him a few months back and well, thought I’d pay him a visit.”

“Rick Dalton. Never saw your name or contact information written down anywhere in there. If I’d known I’d have called you sooner.”

“C-call me about what?”

The farmer takes his hat off, rubs the back of his head and takes a deep breath trying to find the words he needed. “I’m sorry. Not sure how to tell you this but Cliff passed away over a week ago. They found his car totaled off the side of the road. Not exactly sure what happened but seems it happened late one night. Might have swerved to avoid an animal or something, who knows.”

Rick’s mind shut off maybe a third of the way through, but yet all he could do was put his hands on his hips and smile wider. “Nah, seriously. Where the hell is he? We got plans and I’d really like to figure them out before dark.”

“Rick. Cliff’s dead.” This guy must have dealt with these sort of reactions before to go that blunt instead of trying to explain it all again. 

Rick stands in silence for a moment before he breaks down laughing. “Cliff can’t fucking die in a car accident! He’s a fucking stunt double for Christ’s sake! H-he’s gotta be out there somewhere.”

“He’s at the morgue. We’ve been looking for any contacts, family or otherwise, but no one has come forward. Better hurry if you want to claim him or tell someone to.” The farmer pulls out a business card for the morgue and offers it to him. 

Rick stares at it, afraid if he takes it it will make this nightmare he’s trying to wake from concrete. Finally he realizes there’s no alternate reality anymore that will swoop in and undo all this and takes it with a shaky hand. This was his reality now. 

“Wh-wh-where is Brandy. His dog, Brandy? Sh-she wasn’t with him, was she?”

“No. To be honest my family and none of our friends felt comfortable about taking care of that dog. She’s down at the shelter, not too far from the morgue, actually, if you want her, too.” He takes the card back from Rick and draws a quick map on the back to show him where to go. “Sorry you had to find out this way. Was he a close friend?”

The numbness was starting to take hold of Rick and it took awhile before the man’s words reached his ears. “Oh. Um. Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

—

For a guy who breaks down crying at the slightest thing that upsets him, Rick remained relatively tear free. He might as well have been sleepwalking during the whole morgue visit, saying yes to every first suggestion they offered hoping he could get out sooner. He gave them the number to Cliff’s trailer to let him know when to pick the ashes up as he decided he would just cancel the hotel and stay there instead in order to sort through his things. Plus it would be easier to just keep Brandy there if he’s able to get her back. God fucking forbid he get’s there and finds out she’s been euthanized. 

Luckily when he gets to the shelter they tell him she’s still around and allows him around back. Rick’s eyes frantically look for her until he spies her looking as lethargic as he’s ever seen her in her cell. It’s been over a year since she had last seen Rick but it didn’t take long for her to spring to life at the sight of him, jumping up against the cage door as if trying to hug him through it. 

“Woah, easy girl. I’ve come to take you out of here, alright? You’re coming home with me. I got you.” The attendant comes back with Brandy’s leash, opens the door, and hooks her up for him. Rick couldn’t help but kneel down and give her a big hug, but her licking of his face was cut short as she started whining and looking around him, wagging her tail excitedly because she always knew this one simple thing: where there was Rick, there was Cliff.

And that’s when Rick finally allowed himself to completely break down.

\---

“How you holding up, sweetheart?” Rick muttered half asleep, bloodshot eyes and an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips as he looked over from his chair to Brandy lying there on the couch. He could tell by the next day that Brandy was slowly starting to realize Cliff wasn’t coming back. Must of sensed it from Rick’s constant crying alone. Everything in this trailer was triggering Rick in some way; hell, the whole place reeked of Cliff’s scent yet he couldn’t get the strength to even take a break and step outside now and then. 

Rick went through the clothes first. There wasn’t much that Cliff owned in that department as he recycled his outfits a lot. He assumed he had his common attributes, like his favorite Moccasin boots and Aviators, on him during the crash, but he did manage to find his Stuntmen’s Association belt buckle buried in the back of a drawer. Guess he didn’t want people around here to know what he used to do. His denim jacket was missing so he must have been wearing that as well; goddamn, he really wanted that one. 

Cliff didn’t have many other items but those were easier to go through since there wasn’t much that excited him. He did consider taking that large Anne Francis poster; fuck, did Cliff love to gush about that woman. But Cliff also admitted that he was so high watching her in something once that he swore he thought she was Rick in drag, and while Rick himself didn’t see the resemblance, he started to wonder why Cliff really bought that fucking picture.

And of course, Rick looked for any possible sign of Sunday boy’s existence that he could find, but alas, nothing. Fucking Cliff. He just didn’t want Rick to worry about him but, well, too fucking late now. Fuck. 

“I-I shouldn’t have let you go, Cliff. This is a-all my f-f-fucking fault. All because I-I fucking p-p-panicked in Italy. Fuck!” The cigarette dropped from his lips as he wiped his face on his sleeve, rolling out of sight somewhere. And his pack was empty. Great. 

It looked like Cliff left a cigarette case on the table, and as much as Rick despised Red Apples, he was out of options at the moment. Grumbling, he flips it open only to find it full of… tickets?

“The hell? What the fuck is this all about?” Rick grabs one off the top of the pile and reads it over. _Operazione Dyn-O-Mite!_ Dec 27. 

“Wait, this isn’t the premiere ticket.” He grabs the next one. _Operazione Dyn-O-Mite!_ Dec 20.

Rick grabs the case and dumps them out on his lap and starts sorting them. He found a few more for _Operazione Dyn-O-Mite!_ , one for every week of its theatrical run. He started to sort them chronologically once he saw _Kill Me Quick, Ringo, Said The Gringo_ had the same thing covering the end of ‘69. Then there was a break until _Nebraska Jim_ had its group of consecutive weeks. Another break. Weeks of _Red Blood, Red Skin_. Break. Oh fuck, _Hell's Boats_ had its own group. Break. Now to line it all back up to _Operazione Dyn-O-Mite!_

“Sh-sh-shit. These are-are all matinees. S-Sunday matinees. H-h-he wasn’t going into town t-to meet someone. He was g-going to see…”

_”I guess you could say he reminds me of you a lot.”_

“Goddamnit, Cliff,” Rick curses in between his heaving sobs. 

—  
~ _June 1969_ ~

“Mornin’, handsome.”

Rick groans as he cracks an eye open. Cliff was almost nose-to-nose with him, hand gently holding the side of Rick’s face as his thumb lazily rubbed his cheek. Every time it circled closer to his mouth, Rick had to resist the urge to bite it.

“Don’t… don’t wanna get up. Don’t want this to e-end.”

“Well then we’ll just pick right up where we left off later tonight,” Cliff whispers as he kisses his forehead head before rolling out of bed. “Come on. Get up. Gotta get to set soon.”

Rick sighed as he laid there. Cliff thought he just meant he didn’t want this particular moment to end, but that was far from it. There would be no picking up from where they left off later tonight, he was sure of it. But he wasn’t sure how exactly he was going to get through this day with everything weighing on his mind. Maybe it’s best to get it over with now. 

“Cliff. When you’re done getting dressed, could you go in my top drawer and grab that small box?

“Sure, babe. Whatever you need.” Cliff finishes buttoning up his shoes and goes to find it, a suspicious look on his face when he sees that it looks like a ring box that he eventually breaks up with a chuckle. “What’s up with this?”

“Open it.”

Cliff flips the top to confirm what’s inside. “I don’t think it’s quite my size. Or style.”

“I’m going to propose to Francesca on set today.”

Cliff’s eyes didn’t leave the ring as he tried to find the words to express all he was feeling right there and then. “Well. She is a lovely lady.”

“Cliff…”

“Get dressed. I’ll meet you at set.” Cliff closes the box and doesn’t look at him as he turns to leave the room.

Rick wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He wasn’t going to let him walk away like this again. “CLIFF!” But Rick suddenly felt like some invisible force was holding him down where the more he struggled the harder it got to move. To breathe. He was suffocating as he tried to call out to Cliff as loudly as he could, knowing he was getting further away by the second. Finally he gathered what little strength he had left and tried to channel it into one last attempt to get out. 

“CLIIIIFFFFF!!!!”

Rick sat straight up in bed. It was the middle of the night, still in Cliff’s trailer, still haunted by everything that reminded him of him. Brandy walks over to him in concern, resting her head on the bed and looks up at him, whimpering softly. 

“It’s my fault, girl. I-I’m the reason he’s gone. I let him die back in Italy.”

—

Rick packed up some of Cliff’s clothes, the belt buckle, and the case of ticket stubs. The place was such a mess and he was almost afraid of thoroughly going through it and uncovering any other regrets or painful memories. He also gathers all of Brandy’s food and any of her items he could find and puts them in the trunk with the rest of the stuff. Rick takes one last sweeping glance of the trailer, sighing as his eyes fall on the Anne Francis and knows Cliff would probably haunt him even more if he didn’t take it. How the hell was he going to explain this to Francesca? Hell, any of this? He still hadn’t called to tell her what he was doing, he’d been too distraught to. And what was he supposed to say?

_”Hi, honey. Guess what I’m bringing home? My ex-lover’s ashes in a box, some of his shit, and his dog. You liked that dog, right hon?”_

“Well, Brandy. Guess we better go pick him up. Right, girl?” Rick grabs the poster off the wall and leads Brandy outside, letting her in the back of the car and puts Anne there with her to keep her company. He gets in and drives over to the mailbox where he leaves the keys to the trailer and a note of thanks before heading off down the dirt path to the main road. 

“I’m sure Francesca will be happy to see you again. She really liked you, said you were the best girl. That’s because you had the best… b-best… Goddamnit, Rick. You can’t fucking fall apart right now if you want to get home in one piece!”

The stop at the morgue was relatively brief. It almost felt like he was just picking up a book order instead of the remains of the one person who meant the most to him. Rick sat the box in the front seat and wrapped one of Cliff’s shirts around it to hopefully help keep it from slipping before finally starting the long journey back to Los Angeles. 

Rick had no clue what he was going to do with the ashes. He didn’t know if Cliff had any family that would want some. As far as he knew, Rick was the only person who even liked him. He could scatter some here and there in places that meant something to Cliff or he wanted to visit, but Rick didn’t feel right leaving any part of him somewhere. Or should he say, he selfishly wanted to keep all of him to himself. After all, he was the only one who gave a shit about Cliff other than Brandy. 

—  
~ _April 1969_ ~

“I think I love you, Rick Dalton.”

“As a friend. You love me as a fucking friend, Cliff.”

“Nah. I don’t think most friends end up naked in bed together like this without getting wasted.”

“Well, I was kinda wasted.” Rick casually flicks the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray on his bedside table before deciding to put it out altogether. 

“You’re always wasted. Does this mean we’ll end up like this more often?”

Rick shrugs. “I didn’t hate it.”

“Well I didn’t hate it either.”

“Then I guess we can continue not hating it if you want?”

“Only if you also want to continue not hating it.”

“Of course. I love not hating things with you,” Rick says with a chuckle. “About as much as I love hating things with you. Like hating how we have to get up and go to work in half an hour.”

“Do you love me, Rick Dalton?”

“I love you like a friend, Cliff.”

“But friends don’t end up-“

“Yeah, yeah, naked in bed together. Jesus, Cliff. Don’t go repeating yourself like that, fuck.”

“I love you as more than a friend, Rick. More than a brother. Hell, more than I did my own wife. Even if you don’t feel the same don’t mean that I will stop feeling this way.”

And Rick did feel the same, but he knew this career would never allow them to live this way. Sooner or later, he’ll have to break Cliff’s heart. He could put his foot down and end it before anything starts or just enjoy this time together while they had it. Cliff was strong. Cliff wouldn’t be broken that easily. Just have your fun while it lasts. 

“Fine. I love you as more than just a-a friend, Cliff. I have for a long time. Happy?”

Cliff flashes an ‘I knew it!’ kind of grin. “Now, was that so hard?”

Goddamn, Rick loved that smile. That dumb, infectious smile that he knows he’ll never forget long after he’s gone. 

“No. No, it wasn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well if you managed to get through that, I just wanted to thank everyone in this little fandom, all you other writers, readers, lurkers, etc. for being one of the few bright spots in this hellish year for me. Hope you all have an amazing 2020. <3


End file.
